Well, I got in a really bad mood these weeks and decided to vent some of my depression by writing this.
Jealousy
He scowls as he watches the people around him.
He hates them.
The arrogant, prideful people who think they're so much better than him. He can tell from the pitying, disgusted, condensing looks they give him.
And he hates it.
But maybe the real reason why he hates it so much is because they're right. They are better than he is. They have everything. He has nothing. They have, happy, good, full lives at their fingertips, real friends who actually care, and a loving family.
Everything he once had.
Everything he had lost.
And what did he have now?
He has a shadow of a life, he has double-crossing, manipulating, fake friends, and he had a mother and sister and father. Had. His sister chose to leave him and then got herself killed, his mother died, and after his mother's death, his father stopped being a father, instead becoming a cold, cruel, uncaring ruler.
He has nothing.
And as he watches those people who are better than him, he realizes, maybe the reason he hates them is because he's jealous of them.
For having what he had.
For having what he will never have again.
